RivaMika Week Day 1: Chance Meetings
Title: Chrysanthemum Girl
Rating: G
Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin, Attack on Titan
Characters: Levi, Mikasa Ackerman, RivaMika
Summary: Teahouse AU - He first meets her when she almost drops a cup on his head.
Notes: I'm too cool for coffeehouse AUs so I let my inner tea fangirl have her way with this one hhhh
The tea house is not very noticeable, tucked as it is in between a cluttered bookstore and a fabrics shop. The sign reads 'Ajisai Kissaten', and the words are rendered again in flowing kanji beneath. From the outside it does not look too remarkable, windows screened by taupe blinds and walls an indistinct sage green, but inside the shop is another story.
The walls are silk, showing scenes of Heian ladies peering out from behind their sleeves at heavenly gardens, of samurai standing atop monstrous beasts, of gods and goddesses on ephemeral clouds eyeing their lands beneath. The floors are polished walnut and there are no chairs, only elaborately embroidered cushions scattered around low tables. Music is always playing, the traditional Japanese sort that is resplendent with lush koto and tinkling piano.
Levi loves it.
The teahouse is a world away from his reality of long hours and long sleepless nights, of strategy and councils and Erwin's eyes, hardening as he sends yet another soldier to yet another pointless end in the tenuous name of peace.
(It's world away from his childhood, small apartments and cockroaches in the bathtub and dirty sheets and too many siblings, too much for such a scrawny little boy.)
Unfortunately, he does not visit as often as he likes; his last visit was a month ago. When he enters, the bell tinkles and the old couple that run the place bow slightly when they see him. He bows back instinctively and takes his seat in a secluded alcove, below a calligraphy scroll. There are only five or so other people in the place, and their voices swell in harmony with the music.
He picks up the menu to order, smoothing out the folds in the corners. Usually, looking at menus frustrates him (why does there have to be a salad with everything nowadays? Why the hell would you even pureé peas?) but here, it is a pleasure. The menu reads like poetry, words like 'jasmine' and 'rooibos' and 'gyokuro' and 'oolong' and 'sencha' mixing potently in his head.
Today he goes for ginger tea, but when he looks around for a server the usual kid doesn't answer. Instead, a girl rushes over to him, neatly pinned hair threatening to fall out.
"Your order, sir?" she queries, bowing evenly.
"A ginger and lemon tea, please." He eyes her strangely. Her face is oval and porcelain pale, like a doll's, but her eyes are charcoal black, and the curved bow of her lips is set as she scribbles down his order.
"Certainly." She bows again, not as deeply this time, and scurries away. He looks away, but the girl is still prominent in his mind's eye.
She is an improvement over the last boy, an awkward kid who always bowed few moments too late and repeated everything you said, and she is much easier to look at. Levi isn't the kind of person to notice these things, but the girl's delicate Japanese features have caught his eye. Her kimono (grey, with white chrysanthemums), however, is far too dull for a girl like her. Blood red or cobalt blue would suit her better.
He sighs, pushes her out of his mind, and pulls out his book on historical serial killers. Heavy material, but Levi finds it gruesomely fascinating.
He doesn't notice her coming over with his order until the teacup falls off the tray.
Levi grabs it barely in the nick of time, just as she reaches for it. Their hands clasp under the combined weight of the cup and for a few moments they are locked into a state of equilibrium, her other hand holding precariously onto the tray and his occupied with holding his book.
Their eyes meet, and he feels the weirdest need to look away from this slight serving girl as he drops his book and grabs the cup from atop their entwined hands. He places it gently on the table, and the soft 'clink' it makes breaks the spell.
The girl shocks back, places the tray hastily on the table and drops into a deep bow. "I-I apologize!" she stammers, her bow dipping even lower. "I was clumsy and I-"
"It's fine," he interjects, as she looks up, startled, from beneath her eyelashes. The steel gray of her irises is striped evenly by the shadow of her eyelashes. "No harm, no foul. Just… don't do it again." She looks completely baffled, one eyebrow quirking upwards slightly. "What?"
"I am sorry, but…"She rises lithely out of the bow, sleeves sliding back down her toned arms. "The old server told me you were… scary, and that if I made a mistake with you you'd get really annoyed, and-"
He quiets her with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Ignore him. Just pour the goddamn tea." She obeys him readily and picks up the black pot, tilting it gracefully towards the cup. His eyes devour the exposed flesh of her inner wrist hungrily. "What's your name? I can't keep calling you 'pretty Asian girl'."
The flow of tea sputters as he says 'pretty' and he can't help the smirk that spreads across his lips. "Mikasa Ackerman, sir," she discloses, the stream of tea returning to normal. "Yours?"
"Levi," he declares.
One inky eye peers at him. "Just Levi?"
"Just Levi," he affirms.
"…Interesting." she comments. "If I may be so bold, I think it suits you." Her lips curve into a smile that you could never describe as delicate. It puts him mind of something else, something decidedly more feral than a quiet teahouse and a fragrant cup of ginger tea.
Maybe that's why he grabs at her sleeve as she straightens up and places the pot back down, but when she looks down her aquiline nose at him, he loses his nerve.
"Yes?" she inquires, head tilting. Her short black hair brushes against one half-bare shoulder, kimono slightly disordered by his rather violent pull on her sleeve.
"…Nothing. Get back to work, Miss Ackerman."
As she walks way, he hears her snort quietly.
He spends the rest of his stay sipping his tea, reading his book, and sneaking glances at her from the corner of his eye. A few times he catches her staring back and he averts his gaze, ginger peppery on his tongue.
When he exits the teahouse, he leaves an empty cup, a similarly empty teapot, a much too generous tip for a server that almost dropped a cup on his head, and a phone number. Mikasa smiles to herself and slips it inside the obi fitted around her waist, and uses the tip to buy herself a cup of ginger and lemon tea when her shift is over.